Mea Culpa
by Sarcastic Radiation
Summary: Blaine is at home with a cold, when he receives a phone call he wasn't expecting.


Blaine was sick; not figuratively but literally. He was at home, alone, wearing a robe and hot red face. He shuffled over to his couch- which he had made his home the passed few days- and sat down in his pile of filth. He covered his legs with a blanket and saw the remote on his coffee table. He didn't have the energy to bend over and pick it up.

He pivoted on the couch to a lying position. If he couldn't watch TV, then he was going to at least try falling asleep. He leaned his head on the armrest, but instead of falling straight asleep, he coughed a few times.

That clearly wasn't going to work so he went back to sitting. He fiddled with his thumbs for a bit, slowly getting annoyed of hearing his own heartbeat and mouth breathing. He needed a distraction. At this point he would take anything.

His phone rang.

His cell phone! He forgot he has that to mess around with. The caller ID was unknown, but that didn't seem to worry him too bad so he answered it.

"Hello," he heard his voice for the first time in hours. It did not sound pretty.

"Is this Blaine Anderson," the oddly familiar voice asked.

"Look, I do not want to buy a time share in Japan," he answered, assuming it was just the same man who called him every day for the past near month.

"No, no," the voice said abruptly. "This is... an old friend."

"Mark?"

"No, who's Mark," he asked under his breath, "um it's Barr- Sebastian."

The name took quite some time to register in his head, so long that he had to hear Sebastian ask if he was still there.

"No, yeah, I'm... I'm still here," Blaine coughed. He pulled his phone away from his ear to cough some more.

"Oh, are you sick," Sebastian sounded concerned, "because I can call back later."

Manners; that was a new trick. "No, no," he cleared his throat out, "I was just wondering why you called."

There was a long solemn pause on the other end of the line. "I've, uh," Sebastian stuttered, "I've recently had a sort of... wake up call that made me appreciate and think about my life. I just- I wanted to say sorry."

Hearing these words come out of the ruthless mouth of Sebastian Smythe wasn't exactly settling for Blaine. "Sebastian, what's going on?"

""Nothing," he certified. "I just wanted to apologize for my stupid behavior as a teenager. Oh my /word/ I just wish I could take back all of the things I- I said and I did! I guess I might have gotten a little competitive and let things go to my head, but nothing is an excuse for how awful I treated you, so I figure I can at least try apologizing."

All of these words came at him as something he always needed to hear, but never got to. He took a deep breath, particularly because of his congestion, but mostly to let the apology sink in. "Wow," he managed to say, "Sebastian I... I think it's very mature of you to have said sorry to me, but-"

"It's fine of you aren't ready to forgive me," Sebastian interrupted, "honestly, I haven't even forgiven myself."

"No, it's not that. It's just, I forgave you a long time ago. The whole thing is kind of just water under the bridge now. You know?"

Blaine was always the forgive and forget kind of person, and he didn't even realize it. In fact, he had nearly forgotten about the incident himself, if it weren't for the times he sits in bed, recounting everything that he could ever remember in life.

"Yeah," Sebastian chuckled dryly, "I do. I just- I've been thinking all of these bad decisions I've ever made, and I need to apologize. Do you know any of the other New Directions' phone numbers?"

"Like, which ones," he stood up to his little black book. Everybody's told him that no one uses those anymore, but he still liked to keep one handy by his couch.

"I don't- anyone who I've affected in a negative way," he let his voice sink low into his throat.

"Seb," Blaine paused. He really did sound awful. "What actually happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why the change of heart? You sound almost like a completely different person. Someone kinder. What is the wake-up call that has you looking at life through different, rose colored glasses? What happened?"

Truthfully, he was hoping for something dumb, like when Ross thought Joey was covering him when they thought a car backfire was a gunshot. The last thing he needed was to hear he was dying. He wasn't dying, was he?

There was a hesitation on the other end. The only way Blaine knew he was still there, was by the loud breaths he took. "I..," Sebastian breathed, "today is an anniversary of sorts."

"Don't be so vague," he commanded, not using his currently useless nasal passage. "What kind of anniversary?"

"It's the anniversary of my mother's death," he stated painfully.

"Oh, Sebastian," he whined. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he smiled through the phone. "What are we now, like, twenty-six? It was fifteen years ago. It's just one of those things that I have to deal with everyday."

"I know, but I'm still sorry," he persisted. "No one should ever have deal with that at eleven. At least you still had a dad to lean on."

He gave him another dry laugh. "Yeah."

"So do you have any more current photos of yourself," he rapidly tried changing the subject.

"What?"

"Sorry, I mean for like a profile picture for you on my phone."

"Gosh, I only have my work photo, and even that hasn't been retaken since the security upgrade a couple of years back. But if I were to send you one, you have to send me one of yours too."

"Oh, you're on," Blaine smiled at the smooth transition. He pulled out his camera app and took a selfie. He looked worse than he assumed. It was too late now, he sent it to the number he was still talking to.

"Oh no," Sebastian shouted. "You have the curliest of hair! How do you pack it all into your gel so tightly?"

"Okay, you have my embarrassing picture, now you need to send me yours."

"Oh..," he moaned as Blaine received a new text message.

A very loud, and painful, "HA," escaped his opened mouth, followed by a fit of uncontrollable coughs. It took him a minute to regain the ability to breath, but when he did it didn't cease his humor.

"Blaine," he heard the subject of his laughter ask with concern, "are you okay?"

He nodded silently with stifled choking. "You're one to talk about hair gel," he laughed. "How much do you put in that thing?"

"Exactly the amount it says on the box," he shouted back at him.

And this is how Blaine's evening went; going back and forth with Sebastian, and playing a friendly game of, "how much dirt can we dig up on each other?" Traditionally, it isn't a very friendly game, but stakes got high.

By the time they hung up, Blaine could see the sun rising through his curtains. It was one of the few all-nighters he's pulled and not regretted. Granted, he was still sick, but he couldn't've been more happy.

After he had a nice early morning nap, he called Sebastian. To wish him a happy birthday.


End file.
